Lightning Strikes
by disillusionist9
Summary: Featuring pairs from the two Hogwarts Houses taught to despise each other: Slytherin and Gryffindor. Dramione, Flintwood, Drinny, Tomione, etc. Rated T for safety, a collection of drabbles and ficlets no longer than 300 words, ranging in theme.
1. Selfishness - Dramione

"Please don't go," Hermione whispered, his back already facing hers. "I love you."

Her voice didn't shake, thank Merlin, but traitorous tears still forced her to blink more than normal. Even though she wanted to keep looking out the window and save herself the pain if he did keep walking away, she buckled up her courage and kept her shoulders towards him.

Draco sighed and fisted his hands at his sides several times, but he didn't take another step away from her.

"You know I love you, too," he said, turning slowly to face her. "But this is bigger than you, or me, or even us together…forgive my selfishness, but if I leave I know it means that you live, and I won't stand for anything else."

* * *

 _prompt from: anonymous_


	2. Better Off - Tomione

"I missed you so."

The gravestone didn't answer; Hermione hadn't actually expected it to but it felt rude all the same.

"But now I'm rather glad you aren't here, Ronald, because I'm not sure you'd like me now. Goodbye."

A cold winter wind found its way between the layers of wool around her, expensive and heavy wool with dozens of charms enhancing the material. Tom would ask to speak to her tailor on her behalf, advising them exactly why she shouldn't be allowed to feel cold with a several hundred galleon cloak, but Hermione would prefer to deliver that message herself.

* * *

 _prompt from: anonymous_


	3. Un énigme - Drinny

"It appears you are only able to speak French, and don't remember what spell hit you," Madame Pomfrey said as she moved around the end of the bed. "But you still understand English?"

An exasperated sigh from the eighth year rustled the fringe falling into his face. Instead of speaking he shook his head. Draco crossed his arms over his chest and scowled at the plain white sheets covering his legs. "Oui."

Madame Pomfrey turned to the witch sitting at his side, not even trying to hide her shit-eating grin. "Miss Weasley, will you sit with Mister Malfoy until the translation spell wears off?"

"… _oui_."

* * *

 _prompt from: anonymous_


	4. Out - Fenrir x Hermione

"Where have you been?"

"Out," she replied, working a ring from her finger and snapping the lid down on the jewelry box once it was snugly between velvet.

Before he could come up behind her, press his nose to her neck, and graze his teeth on her Pack mark, Hermione headed for the adjoining bathroom. The plush carpet of the hotel beneath her feet couldn't compare to the soft crush of damp earth beneath bare feet. But she would take hot coals over wearing her heels a moment longer.

The door shut behind her, she could hear the dull thuds of Fenrir's pacing on the other side, part protector and part possessor.

* * *

 _prompt from: littleredsiren3101_


	5. Betting - Flintwood

Oliver shuffled through the heavy mud on the Quidditch pitch, following his team to the locker room after another grueling fall match. Playing in the minor leagues meant playing whenever people would show up to buy tickets. He was starting to wonder if their fans loved the game almost as much as he did.

"Wood! A word!"

Through the cacophony of sound behind the press barrier, Oliver could make out a dozen voices seeking his attention or one of his teammate's, hoping to get an interview in before the end of the scrimmage against a major league team. When one called out to his captain, Karla Vance, she ignored them in favor of the seclusion of the locker room. Oliver followed suit. A young witch scrambled to each player to assess any injuries that needed immediate attention and dried the robes of each player she passed so they wouldn't catch cold sitting in the room for the halftime review.

"The Bats are playing for keeps today," Karla said at the front of the room. "So instead of Drill 4 we're going with Drill 7 for the second half…"

The time spent with his aching legs resting on a locker room bench passed too quickly. Oliver stood with his team both feral to get back on the field and apprehensive at what this game could mean for all of their careers. Walking back through the gateway was more peaceful since the reporters had migrated back onto the field in order to not miss any of the action. The crowd's rumble grew again the further they walked from the muffling charms, but he could still make out individual voices.

"…abysmal. If Wood keeps this up then it's disaster for us, mate."

"Shut up, Cass, you're just sore you didn't bet on his team to win."

For all his muscle soreness Oliver felt a lightness spread across his body as he realized Marcus Flint not only had shown in this wretched weather like he promised but had _bet on his team to win.._.and he was certain he wasn't supposed to ever know that.

The second half of the game proved even more exciting than the first, the Glasgow Kelpies trouncing the Ballycastle Bats with no small amount of help from their ferocious Keeper.

* * *

 _prompt from: punchsomeoneforme-willyou_


	6. Hallow Tree - Dramione

Hermione's hand barely fit into the hollow at the base of a tree several miles away from camp. Harry and Ron were sleeping soundly, both of the boys chilled and recovering, but without the influence of the blasted locket the three of them might manage sleep. Her teeth chattered as a gust of wind brushed underneath her jumper. The night was cold enough to make her feel like she also had jumped into a frozen lake, but she had to make the rendezvous.

Harry had described a doe-like Patronus while babbling in his sleep before she left which was all the confirmation she needed that Professor Snape had assisted him. What Harry didn't know she knew wouldn't hurt him. It hadn't yet.

A feeling she couldn't shake made her check the rendezvous for information or assistance, whatever the Professor was able to leave. This time her fingers curled around the cold chain of something heavy. Wary of lockets and necklaces after the past months, she pulled it out of the snow and leaves slowly. The crunching of snow behind her made her pull it the rest of the way quickly so she could drop it in her pocket before spinning around.

"You shouldn't be out here."

She glared at Draco, dressed in thick warm wool robes with only his pale and pointed face showing, envious and angry of how comfortable he seemed in below freezing weather late at night. "Neither should you. The Professor already was here, what do you want?"

"I'm making sure you're safe. Is that too much to ask?"

"From you?" she sneered, almost as well as he could after spending so much time with him the last three years. "Yes."

* * *

 _prompt from: delicate-cherry_


	7. Normandy - Sevmione

Looking back, the first time he realized she would never change was when he ran into her on a beach in Normandy.

The weather was foul and he didn't expect anyone else on the storm-rattled coast. The night sky, darker than normal because of the clouds and very few stars showing through, stretched above. Temperatures forced both of them to cover all but slits for their eyes. Watching the cloaked figure warily, he chose to ignore the storm-chaser and continue collecting the glowing shells washed up by the swells. That is, until he realized the other was leaning over and collecting them as well. The chance they knew them as more than a few pretty creatures was slim to none and he took great offense to how many more they had collected than him.

Even with great stretches of sand in either direction there were only so many to gather up each storm, so inevitably the two met in the middle.

"Great day for hunting, yes?"

The French babbled beneath a tightly wrapped headscarf made him narrow his eyes. He couldn't make out any feature of the person beneath except that they were shorter and had brown eyes that were far too cheerful.

"Indeed," he replied, also in French. He hefted his bag over his other shoulder, the strap digging into the scars along his neckline. "May I ask what you plan to do with those?"

When his gloved hand gestured to her weighted leather satchel the woman, at least he assumed it was a woman, looked down as if she didn't know what he was on about. A tilt to her head followed and the unease in his stomach increased. Too many small scratches were hitting his memory with this figure. "I'm returning them to the sea, it's awful how witches and wizards treat these poor things. They aren't even useful potions ingredients or anything."

And it clicked. The bleeding heart Gryffindor Princess. Could he ever be rid of ruddy Gryffindors in his life?

"And you?" Hermione said, pointing to his bag as well, her finger a bit more accusatory.

He didn't think she caught on to who he was yet. So he instead said nothing and turned towards the sea with a pointed march. The crunch of the sand, dry grass, and rocks behind him as he walked towards the angry waves made him roll his eyes.

* * *

 _prompt from: itisariddle_


	8. Winestains - Dramione

White linen greedily absorbed spilled red wine faster than the server could siphon it away with his wand. Broken crystal scattered between the serving plates dressed with artfully plated roots, greens, and cheese, fallen soldiers waiting for the inevitable. The wine was their blood and the linen would be their grave.

Apologizing profusely, the server cleared what they could of the destruction left after an elbow was where it shouldn't and an entire tray of water glasses fell over the patron's table, destroying everything laid in preparation. Draco stared at the wreckage in disbelief, too stunned to be angry. Yet. With a wordless and wandless _accio_ , he summoned the piece of jewelry previously hidden by a spell near Hermione's glass of wine she declared was too expensive.

He had pushed Hermione away with a spell as soon as he saw the glasses falling, getting her out of harm's way. As easy as it was to pull pieces of crystal out of wounds with a spell, it would be incredibly painful. He also really didn't want to have to explain to his mother how her favorite restaurant had destroyed the dress she had picked for this particular date with Hermione. As much as his girlfriend thought the dress was her idea, he knew better.

Hermione stood and charmed away some of the debris on the floor near her, but Draco could tell by the way her neck started to flush that she was acutely aware of the attention the spectacle was giving her.

"I'll take care of this," he said gently as he stood. The ring was hidden inside of his jacket pocket. "Go."

A grateful smile and swift kiss on his cheek later and Hermione was on her way to the loo to compose herself.

Draco assured the server it was fine, and that he would step away as well to give them a chance to clean up before anyone was hurt accidentally. Obvious relief filled the wizard's face that he hadn't completely botched a night out for Draco Malfoy and his company. While his first few steps were directed towards the bathroom, movement caught his eye, and he made his way towards the hallway that connected the restaurant to the alleyway.

Dark lapels of a leather jacket filled his palms as he grabbed the scruff of the man whose elbow had knocked into the server.

"What are you on about, Potter?"

Harry let the smoke in his mouth from the cigarette knocked to the ground to blow out of his nose. "Let go of me, Malfoy."

Draco pushed Harry away from him when he let go, but boxed his way from leaving. Another cigarette filled the small space with the stench of burning tobacco.

"Why are you here?"

"Can't a bloke have a nice dinner?"

Draco punched the brick wall nearby. "You _know_ why I brought her here tonight, _why are you here_?"

Harry didn't answer. It took two more drags before Draco's anger went back to a simmer instead of a boil. He stared at Harry in disbelief. A stone grew in the pit of his stomach as he took in the other wizard's body language.

"Wait a minute…are you _jealous_?"

* * *

 _prompt from: just-things-i-like-mostly_


End file.
